Loving Findaráto
by dancingkatz
Summary: When Findaráto followed Turgon he left his faithful betrothed, Amarië, behind in Aman. Scenes from Amarië's life while he lived in Exile, his time in Mandos and following his Rebirth. Gap filler romance.
1. Tears for Sorrow

Tears for Sorrow

"Amarië? What's the matter, child?" Mélanildë asked, deciding to say nothing about the dozen or so lamps that sat on almost every flat surface of her granddaughter's room.

"Nothing... I.. I just needed more light to be able to finish the embroidery on Finrod's shirt." Suddenly the younger elleth burst into tears, crying into the garment, which had been intended as her wedding morning gift to her betrothed.

Carefully crossing the room so she wouldn't accidentally knock over a lamp, Mélanildë sat down next to her distraught granddaughter. After gently removing the shirt from Amarië's hands she held her close and let her cry into her shoulder.

Once the initial storm of tears had subsided, Amarië turned her head and asked in a miserable sounding voice, "Why didn't he stay? Why did he go with _them_? I've... I've never seen him act that way before. He was... was like a stranger... instead of my Findarato. I almost didn't recognise him when he came to tell me he was going." Another sob broke through before she continued. "Oh, anamillë, doesn't he love me anymore?"

Mélanildë had no answer for her granddaughter who was once more crying into her shoulder as the elder of the two ellith remembered a certain ellon who had insisted on remaining in Endorë instead of making the Great Journey. True, in her case, they had been no betrothal between them but she remembered very well being too blinded by her tears that she couldn't see the stars.


	2. Missing Finrod

Missing Finrod

Amarië picked up the mantle she'd been embroidering for the past several weeks and left her room to walk the corridors of the House. She stood indecisively in front of the closed door to her betrothed's room for some time and then finally lifted the latch.

The lamplight from the corridor was more than enough for her to see by and she crossed the room to the clothes press. Setting the mantle aside, she lifted the lid and sighed at the jumble of clothing that had been hidden from sight. She rose long enough to light a lamp and close the door and then set about restoring order. It was a wonder that Finrod didn't look like a vagabond with the way he took care of his clothes.

She emptied the press, carefully straightening and folding tunics and breeches and setting aside a formal robe that was in desperate need of cleaning and pressing. She lifted a well-worn and obviously favourite lounging robe from the bottom of the press and discovered a stuffed toy beneath it.

The toy was battered and much loved, the surface of the fur compressed where it had been hugged tightly over a long period of time. She picked it up in trembling hands and suddenly cuddled it close, weeping when she recognized Finrod's scent upon it. This was no token left over from his long ago childhood…

"No, child, it's not."

She raised her head at the sound of the deep, rich and now familiar voice but where the last time she'd been in the presence of Lord Námo she'd been panicking with terror, now she heard the sympathy in his voice and remained where she was, unmindful of her dishabille.

"I miss him," she said in a small voice and buried her face in the fur of the toy again.

Námo knelt by her and stroked the tumbled blond hair. He was pleased by her admission, one which she'd never made in all the yéni of Finrod's Exile and his time in Mandos. "And he misses you as well, yenya. But he is very busy right now and cannot take the time to come to you. He does appreciate your letters."

Amarië relaxed at his last words and lowered the toy to her lap, her fingers stroking the soft fur. "It's torn," she suddenly said as she discovered a rent right over where the heart would be had the toy been real. "Would he mind, do you think, if I fixed it?" she asked looking up at the Lord of Mandos.

"No, child, I do not think he'll mind." Námo said with a smile and dropped a kiss on her forehead.

When Amarië came back to herself she smiled at the toy in her hands and gently set it aside. She'd repair it, but first she needed to put her betrothed's clothes away. By the time everything was back in the press and the mantle was carefully laid atop the neatly folded clothing, the first hints of the dawn were appearing at the window. Reluctantly, Amarië picked up the stuffed toy to put it away. She was tempted to take it to her room but she hesitated. Then after dropping a kiss on it's head, she gently laid it in the press on top of the mantle. "I'll be back, I promise."

She closed the lid of the press and got to her feet, surprised that she didn't feel weary. She'd have to hurry to make it back to her room before her maid arrived with her morning tea.


	3. Still Separated by Duty

Still Separated by Duty

Amarië's duties assisting Earwen in running the household and helping with the queen's various charitable works kept her busy for most of the day but eventually she found herself free to take up her sewing basket, not to work on the half-finished tapestry that was stretched over the frame in the sewing room but to work over a small piece of fine red silk. With all the calls on her time it took nearly two weeks before the piece approached completion and another two weeks after that before she was able to return to Finrod's room because Eärwen had decided out of the blue to make a journey to Alqualondë to visit her father.

If Eärwen saw the bit of embroidery that Amarië was working on she kept her own counsel just as she had when the elleth had asked to be excused from her morning duties one day to go into the city to the needlework shops. She'sd politely refused an escort and had returned with a package of the finest silk thread and bullion, and other than thanking Eärwen for her indulgence said nothing about what it was for.

The visit to Alqualondë was enjoyable in spite of a storm which blew in from the sea on their fourth day there that Amarië had been convinced was going to wash the city from the face of Arda. Much to her dismay, the many unbonded ellon at Olwë's court seemed intent on gaining her notice. She thanked them and sent them away gently, telling each of them that rather than wasting their time with her they should set their sights on one whose heart was free.

Olwë exchanged looks with his daughter after witnessing one of these exchanges and whispered, "Are you certain this is Findaráto's betrothed?" remembering the much more acerbic and hurtful words his grandson's wife-to-be had uttered in the past.

"Absolutely certain, Atar," Eärwen said with an affectionate look at the elleth. Truly, it seemed that Amarië was blooming like a garden, her light of being brighter than it had been in yéni. "I suspect that the wedding may be celebrated sooner than I originally thought."

On their return to Tirion they spent the night at an inn where due to the number of guests, Eärwen and Amarië had to share a room. They spent the early evening in the common room listening to music and eating a satisfying dinner then went upstairs where the younger elleth was to sleep on a trundle bed that pulled out from beneath Eärwen's bed.

They chatted for a while and Amarië got out her sewing basket.

"What are you working on?" Eärwen asked as she opened a book of poetry.

Amarië smoothed the heavily embroidered fabric with her fingertips before taking up her needle and threading it. "It's for Findaráto."

Eärwen smiled and said no more about it but began quietly reading aloud.

Amarië had stitched the silk in an elaborate heart pattern; the silk threads and bullion interweaving as flowers, leaves, vines and the like. She had only a bit more to do to finish it, and taking three strands of her own hair, she embroidered a message of love around the edge of the heart while Eärwen's quiet voice washed over her.

Eärwen looked up from the book when she reached the end of the lay and smiled fondly. Amarië had fallen asleep, the needle fallen from her hand and the embroidery lying on her lap. The Queen set her book aside and rose from her chair to ease the elleth into a more comfortable position and covered her with a blanket. Amarië's hair would be a nest of snarls in the morning but Eärwen didn't wish to wake her even to braid it. She looked at the token before setting it atop Amarië's sewing basket and ran her finger over the tengwar script. The materials it was made from were rich and noble but nowhere near as valuable as the love that had gone into its making.

She kissed Amarië and prepared to sleep with a smile on her face.

In the morning, Amarië was mortified to find she'd fallen asleep in her travel clothes and her knee-length locks were indeed tangled horribly.

"Do not worry, meldenya. It has been a long journey for you," Eärwen said as she helped with the tangles.

Amarië grew still and thoughtful, her blue eyes looking at something far away. "Yes, it has. But I think Findaráto's was much longer and harder."

At dinner on the night Eärwen and Amarië returned home, Sador--one of Finrod's _otornor_--watched the younger elleth carefully. She seemed oddly fragile, and a sadness was in her eyes when she wasn't speaking to someone. He wondered what Glorfindel would make of the changes in her. Of course, it was more than likely that when Glorfindel returned he'd probably have to tie the golden-haired Balrog-Slayer up and put him in a sack to keep him from making uncalled for comments.

Amarië excused herself from the company immediately after dinner was finished pleading weariness. Eärwen watched her departure with some small concern but let her go.

Once in her own chamber, she found she couldn't settle to her rest. Finally, after the house was quiet she picked up her sewing basket, left her chamber and walked the corridors to Finrod's room.

She closed the door behind her, lit the lamp, and set her basket on the neatly made bed. Without hesitation, she opened the clothes press and took out the stuffed toy. She sat on the bed and stroked the fur away from the tear and then reached into her basket. She took out the embroidered heart and slipped it into the rent and then, having threaded a needle with a strand of her own hair, she sewed the tear up with tiny careful stitches. When she finished she found weariness was falling upon her with the swiftness of a summer storm.

Holding the toy close, she lay atop the coverlet and let sleep and dreams take her.


	4. A Nightmare and a Happy Awakening

A Nightmare and a Happy Awakening

Amarië excused herself from the gathering in Arafinwë's study where the family had congregated after the evening meal and retreated to her room. Unfortunately, she was having trouble finding rest this particular night. She tried to read, to embroider, and to write another letter to Finrod but eventually threw the pen down on the desk in disquiet. There was no point in writing; the letter likely wouldn't reach him before he had to leave Lórien to make it home by the New Year. She shivered a bit as a damp breeze found its way past the glazed window.

Finally, she tried to sleep but found herself staring up at the ceiling on the brink of tears.

It was not yet midnight when she drew on a robe over her nightdress and slipped down the corridor to Finrod's room. She opened the clothes press long enough to pick up the stuffed toy and curled up on the bed. As always, Finrod's scent on the fur of the toy soothed her and she finally slipped onto the path of dreams, the toy clutched to her breast and her head snuggled into his pillows.

* * * * * * * * * *

In her dreams Amarië walked back and forth along a balcony, her gaze ever outward, seeking the first glimpse of something...no, someone, a particular someone... Finrod. It seemed as though she'd been walking and waiting for an eternity. She continued to walk and look out, unaware of the tears that wet her cheeks as she wept.

Then she was no longer on the balcony waiting and watching but in a dark, miserable dungeon where nothing but horror met her eyes. She was frozen, unable to move, to turn away or attempt to help. She could only watch as Finrod battled with the werewolf, one of the most frightening creatures she'd ever seen. Her scream as the beast tore into Finrod's flesh was silent and continued on as he finally killed the creature, only to fall, his life's blood pouring from mortal wounds. It was only when his fëa fled his battered and torn hroä that she was able to flee herself, panicking and frightened and horrified.

* * * * * * * * * *

Finrod ran lightly up the stairs of the royal residence in Tirion, the feeling of needing to be in a specific place growing within him. He ignored the night guards in the corridors that led to the royal apartments, and headed for his parents' chambers, only to pause at the door to his own room.

It was just the slightest bit ajar, and he caught a soft noise from within, almost like a caught breath. Unconsciously drawing his sword, he silently opened the door and moved through anteroom into the bedchamber itself.

* * * * * * * * * *

Still caught somewhere on the Path of Dreams, Amarië fled, weeping and gasping, seeing in her mind's eye the werewolf's fatal attack again and again. Finally, her fëa collapsed and she wailed her grief aloud, wrapping her arms tightly about herself as she fell to her knees.

* * * * * * * * * *

Finrod stopped dead as he stared at the sight of his betrothed laying on his bed, tangled in a voluminous night rail and clutching at the stuffed toy that he knew he'd left safely hidden at the bottom of his clothes press.

In the fitful moonlight that made it through the broken clouds and through the windows of the bedroom, he could see tear tracks on her face.

The stricken, frightened expression on her face stunned him and he dropped the sword with a clatter.

Disregarding his damp clothing and boots, he scrambled up onto the bed to take her into his arms and to hold her close, stroking her face, calling her name softly, trying to wake her. "Amarië. Amarië. I'm here. Wake up, love. Wake up. I'm here."

* * * * * * * * *

She didn't believe the voice she heard over her sobs. He was dead, killed by Morgoth's werewolf, dead and gone to the Halls of Mandos. But the voice was persistent and she wanted to believe it was real, that Finrod wasn't dead, that he was calling her name, calling her his love. She struggled to her feet and blindly reached out, stumbling in the direction of his voice...

* * * * * * * * * *

And then she found herself in his arms. Not imagined, not dreamed, but truly wrapped in his strong arms as his voice called her back to herself. "You're not dead, you're not dead, praise Eru, you're alive!" she sobbed against his shoulder, clutching tightly to him.

He tightened his arms around her. "Of course I'm not dead, dearest love. You must have been dreaming. Amarië." He breathed her name, tipped her face up to his and began to kiss away her tears.

Amarië didn't care that his clothing was damp, that it was dirty from the many hours of traveling he'd done, all she cared about was that he was here, safe, breathing, alive and well and at last, here with her. She returned kiss for kiss and her tears turned from those of grief to tears of joy and finally stopped.

The salt of her weeping was sharp upon his tongue and he found himself rocking her gently back and forth as he murmured reassurances to her between kisses, until his lips touched her mouth and comfort abruptly turned to passion.

She was drowning in the feel of him, the strength of his muscles beneath her hands through the fabric of his tunic and shirt, in his presence even more than in the passion of his kiss. She released his shoulders and wrapped her arms about his neck and felt something crackle as she leaned against him. Distracted. she pulled back a bit.

Finrod finally had to break the kiss in order to breathe and he smiled down at her, and then blinked at her puzzled expression.

Amarië ran her right hand down his chest and felt a bundle tucked into an inner pocket of the tunic, right over his heart. She turned questioning eyes to his. "What?"

Finrod suddenly blushed and dropped his eyes as he unfastened a button so he could reach inside the tunic and withdrew a bundle of folded parchment bound by a pale blue ribbon.

"Your letters," he admitted shyly. "I didn't want to just leave them about, and it--comforted me--to keep them close. I so looked forward to the messengers from Eldamar. And that's why Laurendil and Manwen aren't happy with me for insisting we not stop at an inn and finish our journey in the morning. I needed to see you."

"Oh, my love," Amarië whispered and she was weeping again but this time she was smiling as her tears fell. "Your mother told me that you were a terrible correspondent. Now I have proof she was right."

"Well, Amillë is right. I'm much better at talking than writing, love. But, too, it seemed that every single time I sat down to write to you, something would come up and I'd have to deal with it right then. It seemed a plot, I tell you!" He smiled as he finished explaining.

"I suppose I can forgive you, then." Amarië said then she sighed and lay her head against Finrod's shoulder. The restlessness, which had been plaguing her, had vanished as if it had never been. "I have missed you so very much, my love."

"As I have missed you." He ran a hand down her cheek, gently tucking a strand of hair that had escaped her plait behind her ear.

He shifted position, remembering that he still had his boots on, and felt something furry trapped between the two of them. "You found my--stuffed toy." He looked a bit embarrassed as he stroked the soft fur.

Amarië blushed. "I was putting something in the clothes press and found it when I was straightening things up," she told him. "It was torn. I hope you don't mind that I mended it. Or that I've been sleeping here in your room most nights."

His eyebrows raised. "Amillë and Atar allowed that? And," he added, "of course I don't mind--unless," he dropped his eyes again, "you think I'm foolish for having it."

"No, I don't think it's foolish at all. And I don't think your parents know I've been sleeping in here. I've usually waited until the household is asleep before leaving my chamber and I make sure that I'm back there before any one is about in the morning."

He hugged her tightly once more, then let her go and began to slide off of the bed.

Amarië drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, watching her betrothed. "Finrod?"

He grinned at her as he heeled off his boots and finally unclasped his cloak. "I'd rather not have to listen to the chatelaine or my amillë complain about the damage I've done to the coverlets. And we'll both be more comfortable if I changed into dry clothes." He dropped the cloak on the floor to puddle around his boots and padded to the clothes press.

Amarië blushed, smiled, and ducked her head as he opened the press.

Finrod's breath caught as he saw the neatly folded, deep blue fabric that that lay on top of everything else, the mithril and gold embroidery glinting in the moonlight . He gingerly lifted it up, the folds of the material separating to hang from his fingers, silent with astonishment at the beauty and intricacy of the needlework, only that first tiny gasp betraying his surprise.

He finally turned to face Amarië, who had turned to watch his reaction, his eyes bright with emotion, still holding onto the mantle. "I'll wear it for our wedding," he finally said, his voice soft and filled with awe at the amount of time and effort that she'd put into the garment's creation.

"Our wedding," Amarië smiled back at him, "I like the sound of that." She found herself yawning and slid back down on the mattress as weariness overtook her. She could sleep now. Finrod was safe. He was home. He was here with her. As her eyes glazed over she murmured, "Good night and Valar bless, my love."

He carefully laid the mantle back down across the top of the open clothes press and went back to the bed, no longer caring what the chatelaine might say about damage to the linens and slid onto the bed next to her. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and lay on his side with his left arm over her, his fingers brushing the fur of the stuffed toy that she once again held. "Valar bless _you_, my most beloved Amarië," he whispered as he, too, slipped into sleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

Eärwen sighed as she walked down the corridor. She really had wished for a lie-in this morning but Amarië's maid had gone to the household steward, distressed that her mistress was nowhere to be found. The household steward had reluctantly awakened Eärwen who happened to know quite well where her, hopefully, one day daughter-by-law was. The child likely felt she had kept her visits to Finrod's room a secret...

The Queen opened the door to Finrod's chamber intending to wake the elleth and get her back to her room before more occupants of the House became privy to her secret, and stopped in surprise.

Her future daughter-by-law lay on top of the coverlet, curled up on her side, the white silk of her night rail flared out across the mattress and small bare feet peeking out from beneath the hem. In her arms was Finrod's stuffed toy, the furry head tucked under Amarië's chin.

And spooned up against the blonde elleth's back, sharing the same pillow, was her son, his arm draped across Amarië's waist, and his breath gently stirring loosened strands of her hair. Save for his boots, he was fully dressed, and the expression on his sleeping face was one of utter contentment--an expression she had not seen on his face in more yéni than she cared to admit.

Smiling in spite of herself, the queen entered the room, closed the door and crossed to the bed. Dropping a kiss on each golden head she called for them to awaken. "Finrod, Amarië, do you really think I can organize a wedding in a day?"

Finrod sat up with a start, his face and ears reddening as he realized the position his mother had caught them in.

He turned and gently shook Amarië's shoulder and bent and pressed a kiss on her cheek. "Wake up, my love."

Amarië stirred and her eyes slowly focused as she awoke. "Finrod?"

"Um, I think we're in a bit of trouble." He sheepishly glanced back at Eärwen.

"Not in trouble _yet_, but both of you will be if Amarië doesn't make it back to her room before the rest of the household wakes up," Eärwen told them. "Come, meldanya, so far only your maid and the household steward know that you weren't in your own bed this morning and I'd like to keep it that way." She shot a mock glare at her son. "And you can explain at breakfast why you didn't bother letting me know that you returned last night, yonya. I'm certain your father would be interested in the answer to that as well."

Finrod gulped. "Amillë, it was well after midnight when we arrived." He then scrambled from the bed so Amarië would be able to get up.

Amarië sat up and realised she was still clutching the stuffed toy. She blushed and handed it to Finrod before slipping from the bed herself. "Thank you, love."

When he looked into her eyes, he forgot his mother was standing there, "What's mine is yours."

"And what's mine is yours." Amarië looked up into Finrod's dazzling blue eyes and smiled before rising on tiptoe to kiss him. Eärwen gave a sigh and gently turned her son's betrothed towards the door. "I said I was not planning a wedding, especially not a royal wedding with all the usual nonsense, in one day, much less in one day so soon before the New Year. We will see you at breakfast, yonya."

Finrod looked down at the stuffed toy after the door closed behind them, and then hugged it tightly to himself as he sank down to sit on the edge of the bed again, smiling besottedly--his majesty, the erstwhile King of Nargothrond, was, at this moment, merely an ellon deeply in love.


	5. Wedding Plans

Wedding Plans

"Can't we just elope?"

Amarië looked up from her reading at the inquiry from her betrothed and smiled sympathetically. Finrod looked decidedly aggrieved as he waved away the guards, leaving the couple alone in the secluded garden.

"Our mothers would kill us, and I think that Lord Námo probably wants you back in Mandos only a little more than he wants Glorfindel there--which is to say, not ever from what I've observed."

She set aside her book and rose from her bench to slip her arms around Finrod's waist. "Though I must admit I'm awfully tempted. If my amillë argues with me one more time about seating precedence at the feast and insists that we must have this or that on the menu again, I just might drag you out of whatever meeting you're in and flee the city with you."

"I'd probably let you do it if it got me out of another fitting session. How many outfits do I need to get married? To hear _my_ amillë talk you'd think I was going on a ten coranári Royal Progress."

"Oh, those aren't all for the wedding, _melda_. She's just taking advantage of the situation to make sure that you have decent clothing for the foreseeable future as she's positive that she's not getting you into the hands of the tailors again…or at least for a yéni or two."

"It will probably be more like five yéni after all this bother. I've already told her that I'm going to wear that embroidered mantle you made for me."

"Is that _all_ you're going to wear?" she asked, her tone teasing. "I know it will be high summer, Finrod, but surely it won't be _that_ warm."

"Oh, I'm sure it will be plenty warm, my dear Maeriel. But I promise I'll keep all my clothes on... until we're private."

Further talk ended--for the moment, at least--as her betrothed tightened his arms around her and bent his head to capture her lips in a not very chaste kiss.

After coming up for air some time later, his blue eyes twinkled wickedly. "Are you sure I can't change your mind about eloping?"

Amarië was very, very tempted to say yes, as she heard her amillë's voice on the other side of the garden wall, apparently arguing once more with Eärwen about place settings.


End file.
